


Her Existence

by Kuro_Hei



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Coming of Age, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Headcanon, POV Third Person, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 05:38:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15812505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuro_Hei/pseuds/Kuro_Hei
Summary: Details how Bertolt Hoover and Annie Leonhardt's personality changes through the years, the circumstances behind it, and ultimately how it results to the development of their relationship.





	Her Existence

**Annie Leonhardt to Bertolt Hoover was an existence always present in his life .**

13 years ago, when things weren't as grueling as they were now, to 16 year old Bertolt, came a day wherein he was given a chance to chastise life as it should've been

He was 3 back then, young and naive, but the same old Bertolt he regarded himself now.

Nothing about him changed much, he like back then, was too misfortuned to be burdened with a life he without any choice was plunged into, too much of a coward to know nothing else but run away from a reality he knew he could never change.

And just like the 16 year old Bertolt knew best, the 3 year old him escaped from life, from his home still fresh with the scent of death from a mother he vaguely remembered and a father he could barely recognize, into a world he believed he could start anew, forget the scars that tore his heart apart.

But Bertolt still new to life outside a home he regarded more as a prison than that of comfort, plunged himself into the outskirts of Liberio.

With no money, no place to go, all he had was himself, little legs treading for how long he couldnt remember anymore until exhaustion got the best of him, gave out and crashed harshly to the ground, feet bruised and dirty, eyesight fading, and consciousness drifting away and what happened next he couldnt remember just that the pain of his small toes stung excruciatingly he couldnt even bother to cry.

"Wake Up."

A soft voice, a voice he had never had the pleasure of hearing before, even after 13 years he could never forget, that was the first time he heard her voice. 

"Are you alright?"

Vision still blurry, young Bertolt could barely manage to mutter a "yeah" before his voice became hoarse from the lack of water.

"That's good, then that means you can stand right? Come with me I'll get you cleaned up."

Her voice was kinder then, full of emotion, vastly different from the indifferent tone she used too often nowadays days. Her hand that led him away was smoother too, still free from the callouses that engraved a reminder of a life she could never run away from.

The way there was blurry, Bertolt couldn't remember how the streets suddenly disappeared and changed into pathway of trees, too small to be called a forest but too outcasted to be part of the town.

"We're here." She declared and Bertolt  with consciousness fully regained, his eyes thoroughly scanning the new world around him.

Even after several years had passed he could still remember as if it was only yesterday how the small wooden cabin blended in with the surrounding trees, an eerie atmosphere enveloping the little home, something very familiar to Bertolt.

She tugged his little hand as she walked towards the house turning the knob of the door as it opened with a creaky sound. Bertolt hated the sound, something his sensitive ears could not let pass.

"Stay there and don't move. My father is going to be angry once he realizes I brought someone home." She pointed to the nearest chair and turned away to disappear to the narrow hallway.

Young Bertolt situated himself on where she instructed, eyes scanning what seemed to be a very empty home. _Much like my own,_ he thought. The only thing worth taking notice was the fighting gloves adorned on the wall that thinking about it now was probably her father's.

The little girl came back with what seemed to be like a medicine kit, putting it down the floor as she kneeled down to take his shoe.

Bertolt who was distracted with whatever was going down before had completely forgotten the abrasions he had taken during his fall. With the seeping pain of the antiseptic touching his open wound, Bertolt, unable to hold his tears back began biting on his lip to stop himself from bawling.

"If it hurts just say so." The little girl commented as she continued rubbing the cotton on his wound.

"That makes me a coward." Bertolt replied swallowing his tears. "Crying makes me weak. I don't want to be weak."

"Father says crying is one's way of submitting to weakness." Her voice at that time sounded bitter, as if the words he said were directed to her. "But I don't agree with him. Being able to cry is something only people who aren't afraid to show who they really are is able to do. And nobody starts strong. It's through our tears that we are able to stand up and create a place for ourselves in this world. Or that's what mum always said."

For 3 year old Bertolt who was always scolded for being weak, always afraid to be ridiculed by the people for crying, for the first time in his life, was told that crying wasn't something that displayed weakness as a matter of fact it was a symbol of strength, telling him that he too could fight for a place in this world.

Antiseptic no longer stinging, the tears dissipated into a small smile and with clear eyes admiringly looked at her as if she was a fallen angel of sorts, descending down from heaven, her warm heart touching his.

"Thank you" he smiled and for an instance he could see her features soften and that was the very first time, out of the hundreds of thousands of moments, he thought of her as beautiful.

"It's not for you." She scoffed, a small smirk playing her lips. "I'm just tired of people getting condemned for being who they really are."

To young, immature, Bertolt who could not understand how such a young girl was able to have the wisdom of that an adult, held a strange sense of deep admiration towards her.

"Still, thank you. You helped me realize .... things." He looked down atthe wooden floor, a habit he's had since then whenever he didnt know what to say.

"I think I should return home soon."

He turns towards her and gives her a bright smile. _Thank you for letting me understand,_ he thinks to himself and the yound girl nodded.

"Drink something first before you leave. I dont want you fainting again, it's dangerous around these areas."  
She rises up and goes to the kitchen coming out with a cup of water. Bertolt chugs it in one go and returns the empty cup to her.

"I don't have any friends and it was the first time I talked to someone who listened. I'm Bertolt."

"I'm Annie and it was nothing." She replies indifferently before pointing to the road they came from before. "Just go straight from that road and you'll be back to the city. You came from there right?"

"Yeah. Bye bye Annie." Bertolt waved as he moved forward, passing the once unfamiliar road now a place he would be sure to remember.

Annie Leonhardt to the 3 year old Bertolt Hoover was an inspiration, a symbol of strength, fighting for her place in this world. Someone he desired to be .

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having thoughts of writing aot fanfic for awhile now and well here's my first attempt. I absolutely love Bertolt and Annie and how their personalities are a blast to write. It may be a bit ooc but I hope you guys have fun reading and reviews are highly appreciated.


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